“Indeed,” she said. “The descriptions in the newspapers were very informative.”
“Do Sir Walter and Lady Treadgold treat you and Ursula well?”
“We are family now, they say.”
“What is Ursula like?”
“She is two years old.”
“What was our stepmother like? Ursula’s mother.”
Freddie shrugged, her eyes on a pair of acrobats performing, one balanced on the other’s shoulders. “She was bored. She’d spend hours dressing or paying calls or playing cards, being bored. I think that’s why she died. Life was too boring for her to bother staying alive.”
“Who are your friends?”
“Everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“Oh yes. What with Father’s will making me rich and your return making me sister to England’s most eligible bachelor, I have become the most sought-after lady in the land.” She stood. “I’m going to ask the acrobats how they do that.”
Guy grabbed Freddie’s hand. “Sit down.”
She sat. He released her and drummed his fingers on the cool stone wall between them. She studied the crowd as if he wasn’t there, as if his eight-year absence had turned him into a ghost, and not a particularly interesting one.
“Listen. I mean to gain custody of you and Ursula. It isn’t right that Father made Sir Walter your guardian. I’ll marry as soon as possible, make us a proper family home.”
Freddie made no response.
“Freddie? Are you listening?”
“Not really. Did you say something interesting?”
“I said I hope to marry soon.”
“I like Miss Larke. She doesn’t simply repeat the same boring things everyone else says. And gentlemen are scared of her set-downs.”
Guy didn’t mind Arabella’s set-downs. He did mind her attempts to bend him to her will. After a lifetime of commands from his unscrupulous father, he was hardly going to sign up for a lifetime of commands from an unscrupulous wife.
“I shan’t marry Miss Larke. She was Father’s choice and I’ll choose my own wife. And you can choose your own husband.”
“Thank you.”
Her bland politeness irked him. Surely she would rather live with him than with the Treadgolds?
“But Freddie— Are you listening?”
“Yes, Guy.”
“If I am to gain custody of you and Ursula, I must prove that Sir Walter is mismanaging your trusts. Embezzling, for example. Have you noticed anything that might help? Any detail that seems suspicious. Something about Sir Walter’s behavior, or his spending.”
No answer.
“Freddie?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what?”
“Whatever you were saying.” She smiled dreamily. “I wasn’t listening.”
“I am talking about your future.”
“Everyone is always talking about my future. I will live in Sir Walter’s house, or your house, or my faceless future husband’s house. Install me wherever you please; I’ll be a good doll. How does the acrobat do that? I think I’ll ask.”
This time, Guy let her rise and drift away. He should have anticipated her response. Once he was her guardian, they could start anew.
Which meant he must deal with Sir Walter.
When he stood, heads turned, people still loitering in the hope of talking to him. As much as he appreciated the honor shown him by the Prince Regent in throwing this party, and the opportunity to renew acquaintances and strike up new ones, it was Sir Walter he needed to meet. Scanning the crowd for someone to help him identify Sir Walter, he only realized he was looking for Arabella when he didn’t see her.
Guy rubbed his eyes and tilted his head to study the sky. No stars here, just London’s habitual smoke. During his travels, he had become fascinated with stars. Perhaps he would buy himself a great big telescope and study astronomy. Another thing to help him rebuild his life.
An exuberant voice drew his attention away from the heavens.
“My dear Lord Hardbury! I am excessively delighted by your return!”
Marvelous. Another of Guy’s would-be bosom friends. This time, it was an average-sized man around fifty, with a pink bald patch, neat goatee, and wide smile that revealed a gold-capped tooth.
“We have so much to discuss, my lord,” the newcomer added, beaming.
Guy put the pieces together. “Sir Walter Treadgold, I presume. I was just looking for you. Thank you for making it easy.”
“Always your servant, my lord.”
This bit of nonsense made Guy laugh. “If only that were so, my dear sir! You might have bothered to reply to my letters. In the meantime, your solicitors have surely advised you that I am filing a petition to gain legal custody of my sisters.” He leaned toward him. “I trust you are excessively delighted by that too?”
Not for a heartbeat did Sir Walter’s smile slip, as he rubbed his hands together and nodded agreeably. “Let us not spoil this lovely evening by discussing tedious legal affairs. My greatest wish is that you and I might be friends.”
“And my greatest wish is that I become my sisters’ legal guardian.”
Sir Walter sighed in apparent commiseration. “If only it were that easy! A man’s will is a powerful legal document. If the Court of Chancery will not overturn your late father’s will, there is nothing I can do.”
“Yet if the court finds you are mismanaging their trusts…”
“My lord!” Sir Walter’s jaw dropped. “Whatever can you mean to imply? Why, your father trusted me to take care of things as he did.”
“Precisely my concern, given my father’s habitual corruption.”
The insult had no effect. Sir Walter merely scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Actually, my lord, I might be able to offer a solution to our little problem.”
“It’s our problem, now, is it?”
“You’ve met our Matilda, I believe?”
“Who? Oh, Miss Treadgold. The frilly one.”
“She is my niece, by way of my dear departed brother, but she is like our daughter, just as Lady Frederica is now. Our Matilda is most charming and impeccably behaved.”
“Is she?”
“She has been tireless in assisting with my numerous charitable institutions.”
“Has she?”
“And she plays pianoforte beautifully.”
“Does she?”
Sir Walter’s expression was entirely without guile. “I hear you are seeking a bride. Permit me to remind you that your late father’s will names three properties that will become yours if you marry Miss Larke, and mine if you marry anyone else. If you were to marry our Matilda, I would include those properties in her dowry. I would also assist you to become guardian of your sisters.”
“So my sisters would also form part of your niece’s dowry.”
Sir Walter stopped short, then spluttered and laughed and spluttered some more. “You mistake my meaning, my lord.”
“Oh, I don’t think I am at all mistaken. What did you get your knighthood for, Sir Walter? Not for subtlety, clearly.”
And so it went. If Guy married Miss Treadgold, he’d get what he wanted—and become this man’s puppet instead of his father’s.